Just Another Day

3. He's Not His Type

Noah

I paced round my room, trying to work off some of my nervous energy. I was nervous for several reasons.

The first was because I was going Ice skating! I mean, skating on ice! Why? Just why?

Max wasn't exaggerating with what he said to Robin earlier.

Robin had mentioned a week ago that he and some friends were going ice skating and then he asked if me and Max wanted to come. I'd said yes of course, too busy basking in the glow of being invited out with Robin to even realise what I'd agreed to. It was only the following day when Max casually asked me if I'd ever been icesaking that the horror of it all actually hit me.

And so yes, I'd dragged Max with me to the ice rink on Saturday, and yes we'd spent the best part of the day there while I managed to 'find my feet'.

What I couldn't understand was why everyone else could do it! I mean, it was ice!! And they make you wear these thin blades on your feet!! How is it possible NOT to fall over?!!

Max, of course had been ice skating with his family a few times, and looked perfectly natural on the ice. I'd spent the entire time either clinging onto the side, or rather embarrassingly clinging onto Max's arm. Unless I was sat on the ice of course!

The other reasons why I was nervous centered around one person. Robin.

Robin, who was gay.

I still couldn't really get my head around that. I wasn't really sure what that meant for us. And I was terrified that tonight I would get something wrong.

I was never the best person in sensitive situations. I remember when my mum told me my Aunt Libby had died. My response was, "Well, she was old."

Apparently 64 is not that old. Who knew?!

What if I somehow did something stupid tonight and Robin thought I wasn't ok with gays?

I was ok with gays. I think. It's not like I'd ever been around anyone gay before. But I knew that I still wanted to be Robin's friend. And I knew that I was going to do everything I could to make sure that we were still friends at the end of the night.

There was a tentative knock at my door and my mum poked her head round.

"Ooo, you look nice," she said, making me instantly huff and roll my eyes.

"What? You do! Who did you say you're going out with?" she asked.

"Robin and Max, and a few other guys from school."

My mum looked confused. "Then why are you so nervous? You practiced with Max right?"

I groaned and flopped back onto my bed. Why did my mum need to know everything?

"I'm still crap," I mumbled.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be fine," she said, flapping her hand in the air dismissively. "Plus Max will be there."

"It's not Max I'm worried about," I shot back without thinking.

I shut my eyes and took a deep breath when I realised she'd heard.

She was silent for a moment, then said, "So who are you worried about Sweetie?"

And there it was. She'd pulled out the 'Sweetie' name. The name that meant she wouldn't give up till she found out what was bothering me. Ever since she'd read that stupid article that said one in every four 16 year olds had self harmed she freaked out every time I was in the least bit moody.